


The Expected Surprise Visit

by TheCitizenErased



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: 221B Baker Street, Case Fic, Developing Relationship, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Post-His Last Vow, Sheriarty - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-12
Updated: 2015-03-31
Packaged: 2018-02-12 21:29:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2125290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheCitizenErased/pseuds/TheCitizenErased
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock is bored. John is confused. An average day at 221B Baker Street, until a certain consulting criminal turns up with interesting news. What he has to say could leave John and Sherlock on the opposite sides of a very interesting case.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Visitor

Sherlock was bored. John had already put a halt to the gas experiment, with a promise to inform Mycroft if he tried anything like that ever again. In fact, John was currently ignoring Sherlock’s whining, people do tend to get angry when you nearly kill them, even if it was accidental, and Sherlock would argue that he really hadn't been expecting visitors. Mrs. Hudson was currently out of London visiting relatives, Sherlock vaguely remembers her announcing it while he was trying to concentrate on an experiment earlier in the week. He didn’t care where, but it did mean that there was nobody to clean up after him, this meant that the flat had become very messy. Sherlock was not one for cleaning and this was evident by the newspapers and important case files scattered other every surface, all of them solved. He would do anything for a case right now, he might even consider leaving the flat for a meagre 5.

John’s phone put an end to the awkward silence in 221B. Lestrade was calling him, John thought this was very strange, surely he would be calling Sherlock if there was a case. Then, John panicked, what if something had happened to Mary? John launched himself at the phone which was currently on the clustered coffee table and wasted no time.

“Greg! Please tell me this is not about Mary!” Lestrade was quiet for a few seconds then responded in a confused tone “no, why? What has happened with Mary?” John thought that he had never been more relieved in his life. “Nothing, really, I just thought that was what you had called me for.” 

Now John was the confused one, why had Lestrade phoned? He couldn't know that he would be at Sherlock’s flat on a Saturday night, in fact, he’d only visited twice since Sherlock’s ‘exile’ almost three weeks ago. He knew he should visit his friend more, but Mary was his wife and she was pregnant, although, after looking at the mess around the room, John felt guilty and promised himself that he’d visit more often. 

“Actually, I’ve phoned with some worryingly bad news. There have been multiple sightings of Moriarty around London, I thought I’d let you know now since Sherlock would probably forget to tell you”. John was back to the panicking of earlier.

“WHAT?! HE’S REALLY ALIVE? ARE YOU CLOSE TO CATCHING HIM?” the voice on the other end of the phone was eerily quiet, “Well actually John, that’s the problem, we don’t have any cause to arrest him, I mean we all know exactly what he’s done, but to put it simply, there’s just no evidence, he’s been very thorough.”

John thought his day could not get any worse, he’d only popped in to see Sherlock after his shift finished. First he’d nearly breathed in toxic fumes and now this. “Thanks for letting me know, Greg, I’ll let Sherlock know too.” 

Lestrade seemed relieved that John was no longer shouting down the phone. “Thanks John, ask Sherlock if he can think of anything at all that we can get Moriarty on, we’re clutching at straws over here.” “Will do, Bye, Greg.” “Bye, John.”

Sherlock had remained very quiet during the phone call and John hadn't noticed him move to sit next to him so that he could hear the other end of the conversation. Sherlock still wasn’t saying anything, John was just about to ask Sherlock when he noticed that he was in deep concentration, staring at the doorway. Maybe he was in his mind palace. John didn’t get time to enquire as to what Sherlock was thinking about because said door suddenly began to open. The door moved out the way to reveal a slightly amused looking man with a very familiar face. James Moriarty was standing in the doorway. John had immediately thought this would be a possibility, but he’d also thought they’d have more time than this to prepare themselves.

He was out of his seat before he could even comprehend what was happening, his brain using all of his army training, he flew across the room aiming to find his old service revolver. He didn’t have time to see if Moriarty had moved, he shoved his hand into the second draw of Sherlock’s desk, ready to do what was necessary to defend himself and his friend. To his absolute horror, the gun was not in the drawer, Sherlock must have used it on a case and left it lying around somewhere, this really was not John Watson’s day. John span round to Sherlock with the intention of finding out the location of his gun. However, he immediately noticed that Sherlock did not look scared, in fact he had not even moved or reacted at all. In his confusion, John forget what he was about to ask and seemed to be frozen to the spot while watching what was unfolding in front of him. He was confused. He was confused about how Moriarty had survived, how he had managed to go all these years without leaving any trace of evidence of his despicable crimes, why he was at the door looking so calm and why Sherlock was currently also the picture of calmness. He could only hope that the reason Sherlock was not reacting in fear was because he was in possession of the gun.

Moriarty and Sherlock seemed to be participating in some kind of staring contest. They both had the same neutral expression on their faces and Moriarty did not seem in any rush to break the silence, instead, he simply walked very slowly into the room and stood with his arms behind his back facing Sherlock. This seemed to awaken Sherlock from his daze, but to John’s horror, instead of reacting how any other person would, that being distress and alarm, Sherlock simply said in a monotone voice “Sorry, no tea this time, only learnt of your intended visit a few seconds before your rather dramatic arrival.” Moriarty appeared to take this as an invitation to sit down, in Sherlock’s seat of all places. Sherlock finally seemed to have some kind of reaction then, but not one that John was expecting. A look of annoyance crossed his face but was gone just as quick as it appeared. John’s voice broke the second awkward silence that had descended on the flat that day. 

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE? WHAT DO YOU WANT?” Moriarty did not break eye contact with Sherlock for even a second but responded in an almost bored voice “Relax, Johnny boy, I'm here for Sherlock, not you.” 

“What do you want?” Sherlock inquired with no expression at all in his voice or on his face. 

“I require your assistance in a little matter of mine.” At that, Sherlock looked indignant “Why would I help you?” 

“Because, Sherlock. I let you have your fun. I sat back and let you destroy my entire web. In fact, you actually did me a favour really. I do loathe leg work.”  
“A favour?” Sherlock scoffed. 

“Yes. A favour. Now, I’m going to ask for another one. I disappeared for a reason Sherlock. Or did you think it was all about you, hmmm?”

Something about his sing song tone really grated on John’s nerves. 

“What could the great James Moriarty possibly need my assistance with?” Sherlock inquired with an amused tone, obviously not as curious as John was to find out why Moriarty had wanted to fake his own death. 

“I need to find somebody. This somebody knows too much. Far too much. They possess incriminating evidence. They won’t go to the police Sherlock, but I don’t like loose ends.”  
Sherlock’s interest was definitely peaked by what Moriarty had just declared. 

“And who would this person be?” Moriarty sat up straighter and suddenly appeared more serious, staring directly into Sherlock’s pale blue eyes.  
“His name is Sebastian Moran. My former right hand man. He’ll have people watching me, I know. He’ll know I've come to you and he’ll have to consider the possibility that you’ll be looking for him. He won’t like that Sherlock, nope, not at all. So really, that doesn't leave you much choice. We’ll have to find him before he gets to us.”

Moriarty said the last sentence as he stood from Sherlock’s chair, he placed his hands behind his back again and kept his eyes on Sherlock as he had done since he first entered the room. 

“I’ll help you,” came the reply from Sherlock. 

Even Moriarty momentarily looked confused, he had obviously expected more of an argument from Sherlock. 

“SHERLOCK!” John shouted from his place near the desk, but neither of them seemed to acknowledge him at all. 

Moriarty now had an odd expression on his face, he almost looked relieved. But John thought he must be mistaken, Moriarty did not feel fear, and so he would have no cause to be relieved, right? Moriarty slowly made his way to the door, turned and announced to the room “I’ll be back in the morning” in a sing song voice and then he was gone.

Within seconds John was in front of Sherlock just as he was rising from his seat. “What are you playing at?” Sherlock didn't even reply, he just looked annoyed that his thought process had been interrupted. 

“Sherlock, he is a criminal and a psychopath. How can you agree to help him? We should be trying to take him off the streets, not get rid of the only means of that happening!” 

“Bored, John” came the reply as Sherlock made his way to his bedroom, tapping away at his phone screen. John stood there perplexed, was that supposed to be a valid reason or explanation? He was helping the worst criminal England had ever seen because he was bored? John highly doubted that, however, he could not come up with a better explanation. The slam of Sherlock’s bedroom door seemed to kick start John’s brain. He took his phone out of his pocket and dialled Lestrade’s number, Greg answered on the first tone.

“Greg, you’ll never believe it. It exists. The evidence. We need to meet up immediately. But you can not tell Sherlock.”


	2. Conspiring

Greg was waiting at the pub when John arrived, unfortunately for him though, so was Donovan. They both looked impatient and had clearly been here for some time. John gave his apologies on being late, regretting his decision to choose a pub half way across London, still there was no chance Sherlock would spot them.

“So, about what you said on the phone...” Greg started, however, John interrupted before he could finish his sentence.

“First things first, we cannot let Sherlock know about this. At the minute, we don’t know where his mind is at.”

“Well that’s nothing new.” Sally added in a sarcastic tone, while rolling her eyes.

John glared at her but Greg seemed to notice the drop in the mood before anything could come of it and diverted away from the impending argument.

“So tell us everything then, John.”

John was actually quite relieved to notice that they both seemed equally as confused about everything, throughout the whole story, as he had been, he was glad to know he hadn’t reacted abnormally.

“Well it sounds like he’s finally gone to the dark side!” was the first thing sally had to say.

“We don’t know that! He might be planning the exact same thing as us!” John countered.

“You’re right, John, we can never be sure exactly what Sherlock is thinking. It’s not looking good though.” Lestrade added.

“We all know what kind of results Sherlock really cares about” Sally regarded. 

“Yeah.” John replied in a defeated tone.

“Right, here’s what we are going to do. John, you go back to 221B in the morning and tell Sherlock you’ll help them and try to play nice with Moriarty. I’m sure you’ll come up with something that’ll convince him that you’re telling the truth, you know him better than anyone. We’ll just have to follow their lead and hope that we can get to this Sebastian Moran before they do. Sally, you’re on research, but you’ll have to do it outside of working hours. We don’t know where Moran has eyes and we don’t want him knowing we’re looking for him. I know somebody that might be able to help us. We’ll meet again soon to discuss what we’ve found out.”

 

~

 

John arrived at 221B at around 10am the next morning, hoping to get there before Moriarty so that he could have a chat with Sherlock. However, he was bitterly disappointed and frustrated to see Moriarty perched in Sherlock’s seat, facing Sherlock, who was in John’s old seat, both holding half full cups of tea and looking as though they were deep in conversation. John was astounded to see that Sherlock had actually tidied the place, it was far from being spotless, but most of the clutter had gone. They both stopped talking and looked up when he stepped into the room.

“Morning” John directed at the pair, trying to hide his complete and utter disdain for the consulting criminal.

“Ahhh John, I didn’t think you would come.” Sherlock replied while Moriarty sat silently.

“So what have I missed?” John tried to hide his true agenda behind innocent curiosity.

“Nothing that you would be interested in, given your refusal to help.” Sherlock replied.

“Actually, I didn’t refuse to help. I’ve had a good think and I’ve decided that I want to, I don’t know what your reasons are but I’ll have to trust you, don’t let me down Sherlock.” John tried to make the lie convincing by not giving much detail about his decision. He really did want to trust Sherlock and he felt extremely guilty for trying to trick his best friend, but Sherlock had a blind spot where Moriarty was concerned John thought, while remembering the events before the swimming pool incident. John was reassured that he was doing the right thing by those memories, he had to make sure it would never happen to anybody else, including Sherlock.

John tried to ignore the looks of suspicion he was getting off Moriarty and instead, choose to concentrate on not giving anything away to Sherlock. To his surprise, Sherlock seemed to take John at his word and directed him to sit down with the wave of his hand.

“Ok, so Jim has…”

“Jim? He’s Jim now?” John blurted out indignantly, without thinking. He needed to control himself he thought, if he kept showing how much he loathed Moriarty, they’d never believe he was actually helping.

“That’s my name, Johnny boy.” Moriarty sang at John with a very amused look on his face.

Sherlock gave them both a look which made Moriarty look away from John and return to the neutral expression he had worn since John entered, while John remained silent. “Jim has given me information about some of Moran’s possible allies. We can start by investigating them to see if they lead us to him. It’ll be quicker if we take one each. We don’t know if Moran is planning anything. Jim seems to think he won’t strike unless he feels threatened.”

John was not going to argue with Sherlock’s reasoning, after all, it meant that he did not have to be anywhere near Moriarty and Sherlock would be away from him too. Sherlock handed John a piece of paper off the coffee table with a name and address. He put it in his pocket and stood, eager to call Greg and follow up on the lead Sherlock had supplied him with. He said goodbye to Sherlock and swiftly made his exit, very happy that Greg’s plan had worked.

 

~

 

When Jim heard the front door close, he could not hold his curiosity in any longer. 

“You lied to him, I never gave you any information about anyone called Peter.” He tried to keep the smirk off his face, but failed.

“Well he lied first. He’s working with Lestrade, they’re going to take any information we give him and find Moran first. Obviously they want the evidence too. I deduced it straight away, he’s never been a good liar. A man by that name does live at that address, they’ll just think that Peter isn’t talking.” 

Sherlock looked very pleased with himself but he was also quite hurt that John was lying to him, however, he was not about to let that show.

Moriarty let out an amused laugh, obviously pleased that Sherlock was lying to John.

“So he’s off on a wild goose chase.”

“Yep” Sherlock replied, popping the p.

“Now we can get started on the real list”

“Tomorrow. We need to read their files first. It helps to gather data.” Sherlock said while picking up the pile of sheets Moriarty had supplied him with, each containing information about Moran’s possible allies.

Sherlock handed Jim a few of the sheets and got to work reading the ones still in his hand. After about 5 minutes of reading, he could feel Jim’s eyes on him and in spite of his efforts, he couldn’t focus on what he was reading. Even so, he carried on staring at the page, waiting for Jim to look away or say what was on his mind.

“Thank you” Moriarty said in an uncharacteristically sincere voice, his eyes focused on the detectives. Sherlock wasn’t quite sure what to make of it, he had never expected any kind of gratitude from the man sitting across from him.

Sherlock didn’t directly reply to that, he didn’t know how to.

Keen to change the subject, Moriarty decided to hit Sherlock with a bombshell.

“Oh and I’m going to have to stay here for a while, my place was ransacked when I went back last night, some kind of message to stay away from him I believe. Sebastian won’t come here, he knows all about your brother’s ‘minor’ place in the government.” Jim said this as if it was no big deal at all, with a mischievous smile on his face.

Sherlock closed his eyes and breathed in slowly, taking in what he had just been told. “Fine, you can sleep in here.”

Moriarty was surprised at the lack of argument from Sherlock for the second time in so many days, but he did not voice his surprise. In his whole life, he hadn’t been surprised by anything or anybody, but this incredible man had managed it several times now. He was delighted.

This was going to be interesting, they both thought to themselves.


	3. A Change in Mood

The next morning, Sherlock was sat at his usual seat in the kitchen, looking into his microscope. He had now been here for 36 minutes waiting for Jim to get out of the shower. They had spent the whole of the day and night before that reading the files and deciding which ones would be worth following up on, then Sherlock had actually gone to bed, leaving Jim to his own devices. Ryan Outenn was the choice for first, unfortunately for him. As Sherlock was going through the route to Ryan’s house in his head, he noticed that the shower had stopped. He made his way into his bedroom to put on his shoes.

What he saw when he entered his bedroom was definitely not what he had been expecting. Jim was stood facing away from him, wearing a towel that only covered his lower half. Sherlock had thought Jim would get changed in the bathroom. Jim had dripping wet hair and was holding the clothes that he had been wearing the day before in his hands, scrutinising them closely. Sherlock was just about to leave, in order to give him some privacy, when he found himself rooted to the spot by water droplets from Jim’s hair slowly dripping down his muscular back. A large one started just below his right shoulder blade and continued until it was absorbed by the towel.

Jim chose the exact moment that Sherlock subconsciously took a step closer to him to turn around. He looked startled at first, he obviously hadn’t heard Sherlock enter. Sherlock was silently pleased with himself that he’d managed to sneak up on the consulting criminal, although this feeling was soon replaced by embarrassment. Their eyes locked for a few seconds while they both processed the fact that they both knew that Sherlock had been staring.

Jim seemed to let Sherlock out of his misery at that point.

“I don’t have any clean clothes. I can’t wear these again.” Jim declared.

Out of all the possibilities of conversation topics Sherlock had thought Jim would choose, this was not one of them.

Sherlock wasn’t exactly sure what Jim expected him to do, it wasn’t as if he could just magic up a clean Westwood suit out of nowhere. He was just about to say this when something occurred to him. He slowly walked over to his wardrobe, it was the only thing he could think of that would fix Jim’s clothes problem, but he wasn’t sure that Jim would agree to it.

In the bottom of his wardrobe, he kept old clothes, most of them he had only worn a few times and none of them were cheap, but he always seemed to shrink his clothes in the wash. That was the main reason he had refused to do his own washing, making John or Mrs. Hudson do it for him, although they would both argue that the real reason was because he was just too lazy or had ‘better’ things to do. He kept these clothes because sometimes he required his homeless network to look not so homeless.

He placed the large pile of clothes on his bed in front of Jim and left the room to avoid any argument.

Sherlock waited in the kitchen area for Jim. To anybody else he would have looked as though he was very interested in the fridge door. Really, he was battling with his own mind. Why had he stood there staring at Jim? He had always been in complete control of this mind and body, except for the Baskerville incident. He kept asking himself why his body hadn’t responded when he had been telling himself to leave the room and stop staring, but his mind wasn’t supplying him with any answers.

It was then that Jim entered the room, ending Sherlock’s internal conflict.

As Sherlock looked at him, only one thought crossed his mind. Richard Brook. Jim looked extremely different and completely unthreatening. He had chosen a simple pair of black jeans and the purple shirt that Sherlock used to love so much, but had shrunken in the wash. Despite this, it was the perfect size for Jim, if not a tiny bit too long in the arm, explaining why he had rolled the sleeves up to his elbows. He was wearing his own black shoes and had no gel in his now dry hair, meaning it was all over the place. Sherlock thought it looked very fluffy but quickly stopped that thought process all together, completely confused as to why his mind had tried to start it.

Sherlock had to admit though, that it was amusing to see another person wearing his clothes and they did suit Jim perfectly. Jim must have agreed with this because he didn’t look at all bothered or uncomfortable about wearing them as he stood with a grin on his face. Sherlock realised that this was the first time he had seen Jim truly smile and it made him smile too.

Sherlock heard the letterbox open and close downstairs. Knowing that the postman had already been today, it must have been what he had been waiting for. Jim followed him down the stairs without asking any questions. Sherlock picked up the paper, it was actually an envelope that had held the money Sherlock paid members of his homeless network with so that they’d drop everything to complete a job for him whenever he text. The paper read ‘Gaps in surveillance for shift change between 11:00 to 11:05 and 12:00 to 12:05’. Sherlock had been pretty sure he knew Mycroft’s men’s behaviour, but he wanted his network to make sure that the times were precise. Sherlock showed the paper to Jim who looked pleased and amused at Sherlock’s method of avoiding his brother’s detection. It didn’t however, leave them much time to get there and back and they’d have to hope Mycroft had better things to be doing than watching the CCTV cameras.

“Shall we then?” Asked Jim, to which Sherlock replied by smiling, opening the door and stepping outside at 1 minute past 11.

Sherlock hailed a taxi within 40 seconds and they both climbed in as Jim gave Ryan Outenn’s address to the driver. The address was only about 10 minutes away, but with traffic, it had taken them 15 minutes to get there.

They stepped out of the taxi and Sherlock paid the driver. He looked round at Jim who had an annoyed look on his face. He then looked at the house and realised what Jim was looking so displeased about. The house was clearly abandoned. The curtains were drawn but Sherlock deduced from the dust layers on the doors and windows that nobody had entered for quite some time.

Sherlock followed Jim’s lead to the back of the house and watched as Jim expertly picked the lock of the back door within seconds. They walked into the house and stopped, looking around at the obvious signs of a rushed exit.

“Coward. He must have fled when he heard that you were destroying my network. Look for any brown envelopes, it’s how Sebastian communicates with people he doesn’t deem important enough to meet face to face.” Jim said sourly.

Sherlock simply nodded and followed Jim into the kitchen. They both started looking in cupboards and drawers.

“We’ve got half an hour before we need to get going.” Sherlock told Jim.

“Ok, Lock” As the word came out of his mouth, Jim realised what he had said and his eyes widened at the realisation that he’d actually said it out loud. He hoped Sherlock wouldn’t notice the pet name, but of course, Sherlock noticed everything.

“Lock?” Sherlock uttered in a very amused tone. He had noticed the way Jim’s eyes had widened and also the way he was obviously now trying to pretend he had meant to say it.

“Shut up” Jim replied in a whiny voice, reminding Sherlock of a child. At this, Sherlock could not hold back his laughter, he hadn’t laughed like this in a long time.

Hearing Sherlock laugh should have annoyed Jim, but it seemed to have the opposite effect. Within 10 seconds he had joined in. The fact that they were now both stood in the kitchen of a stranger’s house laughing their heads off didn’t escape either of them and it only added fuel to the fire.

Eventually, Jim decided that they should probably do what they came here to do and announced that he’d search upstairs.

35 minutes later, they both met again at the back door, having found nothing useful at all. Looking at his watch, Jim realised they were late and a taxi would never get them back in time. Sherlock saw the time on Jim’s watch as he lifted his arm and came to the same conclusion.

“Tube?” Sherlock asked. Screwing his face up at the thought of it.

“Unless you want a visit from your lovely brother, we have no choice.” Jim replied.

They both set off running towards the tube station and pushed their way through the massive crowds of people. Luckily, the tube had just arrived as they stepped onto the platform and they ran on, both gasping for breath.

It was 12:03 when the tube arrived at the Baker Street station. “And again” Jim commented. They both starting running again, towards 221B. With no obvious surveillance car in sight, they made their way to the front door and stormed through it, with Sherlock slamming it behind him. They ran up the stairs and it was only when they were both collapsed onto the sofa that they could catch their breath. Jim had gone to sit on the end seat while Sherlock had fell backwards over the arm rest, resulting in Sherlock’s head being on Jim’s lap. Neither of them had expected or meant for it to happen so as soon as they made eye contact, they burst out into fits of laughter again. Neither of them had had this much fun in a long time.

It was at that very moment, with his head in Jim’s lap who was in fact wearing Sherlock’s clothes, both in the state of hysterical laugher, that Sherlock noticed John, Mary and Mrs. Hudson in the kitchen, gaping at them with a look of complete shock on their faces.


	4. Conflicting Perspectives

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, It's been so long since I've updated. I had to move and then I started the 2nd year of uni, but I've finally wrote it!

(John’s POV)

John was in a taxi on his way back home, he had not had a very good day, mainly because the lead that Sherlock had supplied him with had turned out to be a dead end. That morning, John, Lestrade and Donovan had located Peter, they turned up at his house in an unmarked police car just in time to witness Peter waving goodbye to a blond women and two young children. They waited until he had gone back into his house and went to interrogate him, but after 4 hours Peter had not revealed a single thing, he claimed he did not know what they were talking about and with no cause to arrest him, there was nothing they could do, they had searched his house and found nothing suspicious or helpful.

John paid the taxi driver and entered his house. As he was taking his shoes off, Mary appeared in the doorway and told him not to bother, Mrs. Hudson had called while he was out, she was back home and would love it if they could come and visit her, she had said.

After eating all the biscuits and drinking all the tea that they could stomach, John decided it would be a good idea if they went upstairs to see Sherlock, hopefully he would be in a good mood and not too enthralled in his current ‘case’.

John let himself in the flat out of habit and made his way into the living area, closely followed by Mary and Mrs. Hudson. He shouted Sherlock’s name and when he got no answer, went to see if Sherlock was in his bedroom. All he found was a bag of Sherlock’s old clothes and another bag on the bed that he did not recognise, he assumed one of Sherlock’s homeless network had come to help with the case and went to inform the others that Sherlock was not in. He found them in the kitchen, deep in conversation about the jar of thumbs that was partly hidden by a loaf of bread. They both looked up when John entered the room. John was going to inform them that Sherlock was not at home when they heard the door downstairs slam shut. They heard two pairs of footsteps running up the stairs and turned to await Sherlock’s entrance.

None of them expected what came next. Sherlock, and none other than the despicable James Moriarty stormed into the room, looking as happy as two children in a sweet shop, Moriarty was wearing Sherlock’s clothes and neither looked the slightest bit bothered about that fact. To top things off, Sherlock had positioned himself so that his head was in Moriarty’s lap and then, as if things couldn’t get stranger, they both started to giggle like school children. 

John’s brain could not comprehend what was happening, he heard a gasp coming from Mrs. Hudson and saw Mary immediately position herself between the older women and the consulting criminal. It had not been more than 5 seconds, but to John, and also to Sherlock, if felt more like 5 hours. 

“Mary, take Mrs. Hudson back downstairs and stay with her” John said quietly through gritted teeth. Normally Mary would argue, but she had never seen her husband as angry as he currently was and she did not want to be in the same room as James Moriarty at all. She hurried Mrs. Hudson out of the room and could only hope that John and Sherlock would not kill each other in the impending argument.

 

(Sherlock’s POV).

Sherlock had frozen as soon as he realised that they were not alone, he knew he should move, however, his brain was not complying. He had seen Mrs. Hudson and Mary leave the room and the look on John’s face told him that somebody was about to be brutally murdered, yet he still could not move or say anything to defuse the situation. Jim was not helping the situation and had his hand in Sherlock’s hair, he had been about to push Sherlock’s head away but had also frozen when he had seen John. “John” was all Sherlock managed to say before John exploded. 

“WHAT IS HAP… WHY IS HE WEARING YOUR CLOTHES, SHERLOCK?” Again, “John” was all Sherlock managed to say before he was interrupted “HE IS A DANGEROUS CRIMINAL, SHERLOCK”, “He’s not doing anything John” was what Sherlock heard himself saying, but was sure that he was hearing things, because he had definitely not meant to say it out loud. “NOT DOING ANYTHING? HE’S PLAYING WITH YOUR MIND, SHERLOCK”. This made Sherlock angry, how dare John think that anyone was capable of playing with his mind? “Playing with my mind? You think HE is playing with my mind? He’s not the one that lied to me! That was you!” Sherlock certainly did not want to argue with John, but had said this out of anger and could not take it back now, he heard Jim hum in amusement but chose not to comment on it, he did not want to make the situation any worse. John’s face changed then and he looked like he had finally figured out some extremely difficult puzzle, “Oh I see, he’s brainwashed you”. Sherlock had regretted his previous comment but was now infuriated that his best friend was insulting him to such a degree, Sherlock doubted that there was any person alive that was capable of brainwashing him, not even his own brother had managed. “I didn't have to brainwash him Watson, Sherlock’s mind is impenetrable anyway” Moriarty entered the argument and sounded as annoyed as Sherlock felt. Sherlock had not expected the compliment and an involuntary smile formed on his face. He wiped it off as soon as he realised it was there, what he had failed to realise though, or maybe be had, but had been blinded by his own anger, was that his head was still in Jim’s lap and that Jim, who hadn't even realised he was doing it, was playing with Sherlock’s hair. John saw the smile on Sherlock’s face and saw Jim’s hand in Sherlock’s hair and his mind went into overdrive, he had no words for what he was seeing and was confused and angry that Sherlock seemed to be taking Jim’s side. He opened his mouth, but instead of saying anything, shut it again, he looked Sherlock directly in the eyes, shook his head and stormed out of the room. 

The slamming of the door made Sherlock jump, he looked up to see Jim looking at him and could now feel the hand in his hair. Sherlock had never been so confused in his life, why had John thought Jim was brainwashing him? It was obvious why they were sat like this and why Moriarty was wearing his clothes. Why had John insulted Sherlock’s mind to such a degree? Sherlock had done nothing to warrant that and was angry at John for doing such a thing, he had thought that John knew him better than anyone else, but maybe he was wrong, because when his eyes met Jim’s, Sherlock read complete understanding in them and knew he completely understood.


	5. Confessions

When Sherlock heard the front door slam shut, he slowly sat up and put his head in his hands. He felt Jim put a warm hand on his back and was strangely comforted by the gesture. “Are you…. ok?” Sherlock could tell that Jim was not accustomed to comforting people, but he appreciated the effort. “I’m fine” Sherlock wasn’t fine, he was angry and confused, he was used to feelings of anger but he hated the feeling of confusion. He decided that the best course of action would be to concentrate on something else, and right now the only other thing to concentrate on was the man sat next to him.

Jim was not expecting the sudden movement from Sherlock, who swung round so that he was sat facing Jim, with his legs crossed and a suspicious smile on his face. “How do you feel about alcohol?” Jim wasn’t exactly sure where Sherlock was going with this, but he could not deny that the look in Sherlock’s eyes made him feel excited. “For you, Lock, anything” There was that name again! He hadn’t meant to say it, but once it was out there, there was nothing he could do about it and decided that he’d pretend that it was intentional, again. 

Sherlock didn’t intend on getting drunk, or anywhere close, he just needed something to calm himself down after the altercation with John. He went to the kitchen and came back with a wide range of bottles, unsure what went together or even what he liked. He offered them all to Jim, who poured them both a drink. They both moved to sit in the armchairs that were currently facing the lit fire. Sherlock pulled his round so that he was directly facing Jim and decided that he wanted to play a game. He pulled out the game of operation, which had been under his chair since he had last played Mycroft. “Every time the alarm is set off, we both drink.” Sherlock stated, with a grin on his face. “Sounds fair” Jim reciprocated the grin. 

It was Sherlock’s turn first and he managed to remove the heart without touching the sides. Jim leant forwards and his motion send his hand towards the metal edges, setting the alarm off. He held up his glass towards Sherlock and drank, it took Jim 3 attempts to get the piece out, although Sherlock was sure that he was touching the sides on purpose. 

20 minutes later, all the pieces had been removed, but Jim decided that he was enjoying this too much (although he’d never admit that to anybody) and replaced all of the pieces. “Have you ever had a boyfriend?” Jim wanted to see Sherlock’s reaction more than he wanted an answer. “Once, in University, didn’t work out.” Sherlock’s face expression didn’t even change, he was in deep concentration trying to remove his piece. He failed though, he’d already consumed enough to impair his coordination. “Why did you come back?” If Jim got to ask questions, then Sherlock thought he would try his luck. “To save your life” Jim focused on Sherlock to gage his reaction, he noticed the way the edges of his lips move upwards, forming a smile that he was trying to hide. Sherlock held up his glass towards Jim, who clicked his own against it. 

“Why do you kill people?” Sherlock knew he was pushing his luck, but he wasn’t going to get a better opportunity to ask. “I only kill the bad ones, the world will be a better place without them, anybody who chooses to do business with a man of my reputation… well they aren’t saints.” Jim had no idea why he even answered, let alone told the truth. “But the old woman, the sweets given to the kids, they weren’t bad people.” Sherlock countered. “That’s all Sebastian, his job is to protect me and to get the job done, I choose not to ask questions.” Sherlock knew that Jim wasn’t as innocent as he was trying to make himself out to be, he knew that Jim would know exactly what Sebastian had been doing. However, he had come to the decision that Jim wasn’t as insane or psychotic as he wanted people to believe.

They continued playing the game until both of them were more than tipsy and neither could get the pieces out. Jim stood up to get another bottle, he stumbled and somehow ended up sitting on the couch, he tried to get up but instead managed to spill the remainder of his drink on the seats. Sherlock couldn’t help but chuckle at him for that, and what started as amusement ended in the both of them in fits of laughter for what seemed like the hundredth time that day. 

Sherlock stood and stumbled over to Jim, sitting down bedside him. He put a hand on his knee to get his attention. The mood had changed and both of them knew it. “Why do you put on this mask?” If Jim hadn’t drank far too much, he would have left right then, but the fact of the matter was that he wanted to answer. “I have a reputation to uphold” Jim was concentrating on a spot on the far wall. “Now the truth” Sherlock replied. Jim looked at Sherlock then. “I don’t know how to be anything else, I wasn’t always like this though, sometimes I get angry and it’s not me, I can’t control it, I don’t know.” Jim was concentrating on his hands now, unable to get a full answer out, but Sherlock thought he knew what Jim was trying to say. Sherlock was perhaps the only person that would give Jim the time of the day, he himself had lived through events that had changed him, maybe irreversibly. He decided then that if Jim was willing to admit to Sherlock that there was another Jim in there, possibly the real Jim that had been held prisoner by this side of his personality, then he was going to help him, he was going to help him be the better man. 

Jim felt himself sobering up and headed to the kitchen for that extra bottle. He brought their glasses back over and filled them back up. The bottle was only half full and they didn’t stop until the bottle was empty. Now they were drunk. Sherlock tried to lay down but Jim was in the way, he moved the other way and placed his head on a wet surface, causing him to jump up. He couldn’t stand still and was stumbling around, but he somehow managed to drag Jim to his feet. “You can’t sleep here” Jim was too drunk to even comprehend the situation but he let Sherlock drag him to his feet.

They ended up in Sherlock’s bed. Sherlock had managed to remove most of his clothes, leaving just boxers, his shirt and socks. Jim hadn’t been quite so successful, he’d only managed to remove his shoes. They collapsed into the bed, both facing opposite directions. Jim fell asleep almost immediately, while Sherlock went over the events of the night again and again in his head, before finally falling into a drunken sleep.


	6. The Morning After

When Sherlock woke up the next day his mind was fuzzy, although he still remembered all the things that had been confessed. He turned over, expecting Jim to be there, but the bed was empty. On one hand, he was relieved, he was currently suffering from a bad hangover and he wouldn’t have known what to say to the other man, however, he actually enjoyed Jim’s company and would have liked to have been in his presence when he woke up. He couldn’t explain that feeling at all, but it was stronger than ever, he was sure that he had never felt it before.

He laid there for a while longer, not wanting to move. Eventually the smell of food coming from the kitchen gave him the motivation he needed to leave his bedroom. When he entered the kitchen, wearing his dressing gown, he was met by Jim, who was currently wearing only boxer shorts and had dripping wet hair. Jim was making scrambled eggs and had placed two plates on the kitchen table. Even after everything that had happened recently, this was the thing that felt most surreal to Sherlock, James Moriarty was in his flat, cooking him breakfast.

“What time do you call this?” Jim chuckled as he saw Sherlock, spooning the eggs onto the plate. “Get the toast, would you?” Sherlock seemed to be on autopilot and reached out to the toaster, handing Jim the toast. He sat down and placed his head in his left hand, moving too fast was making his headache worse.

Jim chuckled again and pushed a glass of water and two painkillers over to Sherlock as he made his way over to the fridge for the orange juice.

“Errm, thank you?” Sherlock said, although it sounded more like a question, he still wasn’t 100% sure that he wasn’t dreaming. 

Jim sat and began to eat, Sherlock knew that he was being stared at but instead of looking up he just stared at his plate as he ate his breakfast. Eventually, Jim ended the silence.

“What I said last night, that was the truth, I don’t kill people just for the sake of it, and I’m not a threat to you or your loved ones”. Jim sounded completely sincere. “I wanted you to jump because you were getting too close, but now I can see that I made a mistake, and for that, and all the pain that I have caused you, I am sorry.” 

Sherlock was stunned, he had not been expecting that at all. “I know” was all he could say, and he truly did know, he couldn’t see it before but he could now, Jim was not evil.

Keen to change the subject, Jim decided to pick up the pile of files from the floor and placed them on the table in front of Sherlock. Sherlock was also happy with the topic change, he had never been good at heart-to-hearts. 

“So who’s next?” Jim enquired, impatient for their ‘case’ to be completed.

“Rob Chaplain, he was never on my radar so he may not have ran, we can pay him a visit today, there’s no need to try and avoid my brother, I’m sure John has already informed him of the current situation, in fact I’m surprised he hasn’t been round already”.

It was decided that they would go directly to the target’s address, despite the fact that Mycroft would definitely be watching. They didn’t have to share anything they found out with him.

They both got changed, Jim now back in his own suit that had been washed, and they met back in the kitchen. The Richard Brook look was gone and Jim Moriarty the consulting criminal look was back.

As soon as Sherlock opened the front door he groaned. Mycroft was stood near the curb, leaning on his umbrella. “Ah, Sherlock, I wondered when you would make an appearance.”   
“Go away, Mycroft.” Sherlock tried to walk away from his brother while hailing a taxi, but he wasn’t having much luck. 

“We are on the same side, Sherlock.” Mycroft said in his usual authoritative tone. Sherlock narrowed his eyes, and deduced that his brother was not lying.

“And why would you want to get to Sebastian Moran?” Sherlock couldn’t deduce his brother’s motives.

“He has leverage” That is all the information that Sherlock was going to gain, he knew this and didn’t attempt to waste any more time. 

He stood in front of his brother and looked over to Jim, who was stood a few steps away. One of Mycroft’s cars pulled up and Mycroft gestured towards it. Sherlock let out a large breath and realised that with Mycroft’s help, this could all be a lot easier. He ushered Jim over and gestured for him to move into the back seat of the car. At first he looked like he was going to protest until Sherlock gave him a slight smile and nodded his head once. Jim climbed into the back seat of the car and Sherlock made his way round to the other side of the car and also climbed in.

Everything seemed to happen way too fast, definitely too fast for Sherlock to react. Jim was out cold with his head against the car window, Sherlock quickly deduced that Jim had been drugged the moment he had closed the car door. When Sherlock took in his surroundings, he saw that the driver of the car was none other than Sebastian Moran. The man in the passenger seat was unknown to Sherlock, but he was currently holding a gun at Sherlock’s head. Sherlock had many questions and theories, but before anything else could happen, the door beside Sherlock opened, revealing Mycroft. Sebastian rolled down the window and ushered Mycroft to hurry up. 

“Out, Sherlock.” Mycroft tried to get Sherlock out of the car the easy way, but when Sherlock turned and attempted to pull Jim with him, he started to lose his vision. He could feel the effects of a drug working through his system, and blacked out.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time writing anything like this, so comments/feedback would be greatly appreciated! Thank You!


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